I am waiting in line
counting the days
carrying in my mind
how precious that is
with memories capturing
at the presence stage
from the hourglass
time is the essence of life
with each breathing moment
is a blessing from each
learning lesson
taking on different tasks
from various rides
A reminder to live
life to the fullest potential
without any second
thought of regret
As if last given chance

I’ve spent my life waiting in line.
Sometimes first, sometimes last,
Sometimes in the middle,
By age or by height, steadfast
I stood, sometimes by school grade
But in all those times past
Someone else set the order.
Down the hall or before the mast,
I was told where to stand.
But this time I’m ready to go past
The others in line. This time, to me
Alone the line to the next phase is cast.
I shall leave the line behind
And step through to eternity vast.

Renaissance and rebirth
acquiesce to the higher power!
They have gone to nirvana
on the last train out.
Finding your chakra
your mantra empowered.
To do good to all men,
taking hope in each hour.
Walk in the light,
not in sparks which devour,
the essence of life
like a vase of dead flowers.
Never give up,
cast your alms of good before right.
Throw a white sheet across
the color of night!

Forever falling
down the
same appalling
path . pathed
in passion
pinched with pain
ruefully wrapped
in rage . Still
Relentlessly rowing
through its
enraging river
of wrath .

Without your touch
and loving smile
your sweet embrace
and haunting eyes
a tender kiss
upon your thigh
the darkened night
moves madly by
your deepest secret
no longer mine
torn in two
a fool am I
the harvest moon
no longer shines
across the night's
forbidden sky
For you my love
were never mine
release my heart
put out the fire!

In darkened room somnolent she lies
while high above the horned moon
cast dim shadows cross the night.

So now she sleeps.
how soft she breaths,
no movement yet, she could be dead.

But winter closes, snows thaw then flow.
Earth warms, she moves,
her time has come.

Languid, stretches limbs;
She sighs, she smiles,
another year.

She stands a tip toe a ballerina fair,
looks on her world,
bestows new life.

A delicious taste of the
oatmeal raisin cookie
intrigue as a favorite kind
indulge in a hungry craving
for a sweet tooth of desire
from a grandma’s baking
permeate kitchen stage
fills with emotional display
that comes with a wide
an array of special
made for a guest's visit
A cup of chocolate milk
given add to a perfect match
for the lunch snack treat
at the spending moment
It embraces the heart with joy
elated smile put on a face
a lullaby song to play

"Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass..."
~ William Wordsworth

The trees have blossoms
of pastel bangles and lace ribbons.
I am lying within the splendour in the grass,
surrounded by naive hyacinth and lily of the valley.
A yellow warbler quickens back and forth, its song
stirring the air, flirting with a jealous breeze
as the ambiance of April envelopes
me, awakening my senses.

The clouds billow along.
I am floating,
waltzing with the sun.

“I dont want to die”
You say

“Im scared of death”
You say

You drone on about how you hate death and everything it brings, and why you never want to disintegrate into a heavy, cold corpse.

But you rot every day.

I sought earnestly,
to speak with the dead.
To put an end to the hell
existing only in their head.
To conjure spectres
at night in their dread.
The ghostly images,
of light down the hall
would gather round
to answer my call.
Then venture forth
out into the night
and visit their graves
until first breaking light.
Released from their torment
here on the earth
ready to pass
from this life into rebirth!